Dotting the I's
by plasticworld
Summary: Since when is being sweet a bad thing? In the immediate aftermath of Always, both Castle and Beckett have some deep thinking and talking to do. Not as boring as it sounds, I promise! SPOILERS for 4x23, and considers Intervention and Sugarcoated Risks as cannon.


Dotting the I's

The city's noises filtering through the triple pane windows of Richard Castle's bedroom were familiar, yet distant. Sirens, both police and emergency medical service, were going off several blocks away. A quick snatch of too-loud, angry Hip-Hop music momentarily infiltrated the room as the source of the racket—a large, very white sedan with tinted windows no less—shot along the street below. Cars honked, dogs barked, and vendors hawked. But inside, the woman wrapped in Castle's arms slept through it all.

A soft, warm glow emitted from the lamp standing smugly on the nightstand to the left of the solid wood bed, casting both light and shadows across the couple. Yet, even in the dimly lit room, the author was memorizing every line, every dip of Kate Beckett's frame. It took control, so much control not to shift his weight, not to touch her shoulder, not to press his lips to her neck, not to whisper sweet promises into her ear as she slept.

It wasn't that he hadn't slept; he had. But something had awakened him suddenly. As he had lain there thinking, he had realized he needed to do some deeper thinking before she woke up. Now his writer's mind was fast at work, sifting through the words she had said to him when, earlier in the evening, she had shattered his world. It wasn't the declaration that she wanted him—that declaration he wanted to save and savor later once this other thing was sorted out—it was what she had said next that was sticking in his mind, snagging his thoughts and making him restless.

_He got away, and I didn't care_. _I almost died, and all I could think of was you_.

Castle's eyes flickered away from her sleeping form toward the door to his office. A frown marred his handsome features as one thought after another fought for dominance in his mind. If Cole Maddox got away, she's still in danger, he told himself, determined not to shy away from the reality of it. It was so tempting to wear his usual rosy glasses and pretend the situation was in hand. Not this time, he determined, his mouth straightening with his resolve. I have to face facts. I warned her; I _pleaded_ with her not to pursue him. Oh, Kate! his spirit moaned, Why couldn't you just leave it alone?

But even as the anguished thought hit him, he knew the answer. He looked down at her again, his eyes filling with regret. I know why. I do. And I forgive you for choosing your mother's case, for choosing _revenge_ over me. All of that is gone now. A clean slate, he promised silently as his look lingered on her gently curving smile. And I will do my best not to throw it back in your face. The temptation to kiss her was so strong he had to grip the sheet in an effort to contain himself. I love you, Kate Beckett, he told her silently, always.

Always. It was their word, their mutual code for the phrase they had left unsaid for far too long. It was also a promise, one they had made to each other at different times over the course of their rocky relationship. The definition of the word was paradoxically immutable and variable. A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and his blue eyes sparkled as a renegade memory of the time Beckett had promised to be a "one-writer girl, _always_"commandeered his mind. There had been so much subtext in the promise that it had buoyed his spirits to the point he had believed she was actually getting ready to move, to reach out, to initiate something between them. Of course, he had also used the word with her on more than one occasion, usually in an effort to penetrate her thick skull and get her to realize just exactly how committed he was to her.

The smile which had sprung involuntarily to his lips moments before vanished as a frown took its place. In order to make sure they had their "always" something had to be done. But what do I do? he asked himself, frustration darkening his eyes. She hasn't given me details. I can't map out our next step if I don't know what happened before. He arched an eyebrow. Not that I wanted the details right then and there. Laughing softly, he looked down at her to make sure he hadn't inadvertently awakened her. Nope, he reassured himself, still dead to the world. Grimacing at his own poor choice of words, he shook his head. Not the best expression to use, Castle! Inappropriate and—I'm ashamed to admit it—clichéd!

Okay, so think! What do you know so far? Beckett had a face-to-face with Maddox. Okay, she didn't say as much, but she certainly didn't have those bruises the last time you saw her. She's banged up and sore. Probably the only reason she didn't complain while you were making love was that she was still running on adrenaline. She's going to need time to heal, so note to self: hands off until then. Be respectful! Just because she's here with you now doesn't mean you should take advantage of her. There will be plenty of time for that later, once you know she's safe. No, wait! Not _take advantage of_!That's not what I meant! I _mean_, there will be plenty of time for the physical stuff later. He shook his head at himself. Focus, Castle!

What else do I know? He closed his eyes and forced the muscles in his neck and shoulders to relax. The last thing he needed at this moment was a tension headache. She came to my door wet and bedraggled and, well—sexy as hell! Shaking himself slightly, he commanded, Come on, genius, focus! She's much too smart to get that saturated unless it was deliberate. We were at Alexis' graduation when the bottom fell out of the storm, so that was five-thirty, maybe six o'clock. But she was drenched, so she obviously spent time out in the rain. Doing what, I can only guess. Hopefully she was thinking about me.

Feeling his heart swell with love and gratitude, he forced himself to stay in control. His eyes flickered away from her face to her still very damp hair. Taking the risk, he gently lifted his hand and softly touched it. She's going to catch cold if I don't get her into a warm shower. Soon, but not yet.

We're going to have to talk. About what happened this afternoon, about what I know about the case, and about all the details of the deal. And it can't wait. He sighed softly. And, naturally, we're going to have to talk about this. And about where we're going from here. His eyes were shining with love as he looked down at her tenderly. I've never been as excited and scared as I am right now, in this moment. Not even when we were facing imminent death in the form of the dirty bomb, or when we were in that shoot-out with Mr. Voodoo-Whoodoo Man. Although that one is a close runner up! Not the point, he reminded himself. Focus! Wait, what was I thinking about before—? Oh, right, _talking_.

Kate's going to need time and space, he realized. She isn't going to adjust to this new chapter in our—ugh, even _thinking_ that is horrible! He squeezed his eyes shut to remove the hackneyed phrase from his mind and tried again. She'll need time to adjust to this new _phase_ of our relationship. Ah, better! So, I'm not going to push her. But I'm not going to let her draw away, either. I'm going to have to find some happy medium where I'll be able to reassure her that I'm in love with her _and_ will be patient until she's comfortable with the commitment. I'll be damned if I mess this up!

He shifted slightly to ease the pressure lying on his side placed on his hip. Kate stirred gently in the circle of his arms, but didn't drowse awake. Softly feathering a kiss against her ear, he inhaled deeply, his olfactory senses drinking in the intoxicating scent of her. If he was going to have to show nearly monk-like restraint in order to make this relationship last, to transform this bliss from a fleeting moment into an "always" he was going to have to savor as much of her as he could now. She's so worth it, he told himself, remembering his mother's words when she had dramatically staged her intervention just a few weeks before.

Unexpectedly Kate's lips curved into a soft, sexy smile. Her eyes didn't open, but she sighed audibly and settled further into his chest. Then, with a voice which was almost a whisper, she breathed his name. "Castle?"

"I'm right here," he said softly, his lips still close to her ear. "You're safe, Kate." He pressed his lips to her ear again, then whispered, "Go back to sleep."

"Then I'm not dreaming?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep and mingled with wonder.

He smiled at that, knowing deep down that if she had been more awake, more aware, she would never have let that question slip out. "Not a dream," he reassured softly.

For a long minute she didn't say anything. Then, in a voice still far away and dreamy, she murmured something he almost didn't catch. "I love you."

His breath caught in his chest and his arms tightened around her. More than anything he wanted to give into his desire, to bury himself deep in her arms, to show her just how much he loved her. But the bruises, the scrapes, and the soft, almost unintelligible moans were just enough to check the rising wave of passion before it could peak and crash about her.

Allowing himself one last, gentle kiss, Castle slowly extracted himself from around her. Kate felt his absence immediately. All of the warmth insulating her fled, leaving her feeling chilled. She shivered as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Rolling onto her other side, she tried valiantly to adjust her vision to the dimly lit room.

"Castle?"

He was standing with his back to her, already in his boxers. Turning to look at her over his shoulder, he gave her an easy smile. "You stay. I'll be back in just a minute."

She put out a hand. "Don't go. Please?"

Sighing softly, he came over, took her hand in his, and perched on the side of the bed. "Have to. But I'll only be a minute. I promise. I'm not running out on you. I will never do that again."

A slow smile started at the back of her hazel eyes before it reached her mouth. "Where are you going?"

"You have a spectacular smile when you use it," he told her softly, his voice serious but his eyes alight with awe. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead and then straightened again. With a quick grin, he repeated, "I'll be right back." Releasing her hand, he stood up. "Trust me."

"Always," she assured, nodding. Her eyes trailed him as he disappeared into his bathroom. To her surprise he didn't close the door. As the last vestiges of sleep left her she shifted in the bed again using her elbows to prop herself up, wincing as the force of her efforts caused her bruises to impact the mattress.

Unable to see him from her position on the bed, she used one of her other senses. Straining to hear everything he was doing, she was taken aback when she heard the sound of a shower door opening, followed by the spray of water suddenly hitting tile. She drew in her breath, determined not to feel affronted or hurt.

I trust him, she told herself, I trust him. There is no way, no way in hell he's just going to leave me here while he showers. She closed her eyes tightly as she fought against her insecurities and doubts. Castle wouldn't do that. He isn't that cold. She could feel the pressure of the tears building behind her eyelids. Stop it, Kate! she admonished herself.

A warm, slightly damp hand touched her shoulder. She jumped, her eyes flying open. He was standing at the edge of the bed in his designer bathrobe.

"I told you I'd only be a minute." He laughed softly. "Come on, Kate. You have to get a shower."

"Wh-What?" It took a moment for her to realize what he was saying.

"You need a shower," he repeated then explained further, "Look, you showed up at my door soaked to the skin. I'm not willing to risk your getting a head cold right now. We have a lot to deal with, and the sniffles is one complication I think we both want to avoid. So, cowboy up and get in there." He nodded toward the bathroom for effect. "While you're showering, I'll make some coffee."

"Rick, wait," she said as he stepped back from the edge of the bed.

He tried and failed to hide just how delighted he was that she used his Christian name. "What?"

"My clothes are wetter than I am. I don't have anything to put on once I'm—" she trailed off as hot color scorched her cheeks. "Huh. Yeah, didn't think about that when I walked over here from the park."

He smiled at her. "I want to hear all about what you were doing in the park. _Later_. In the meantime, you hit the shower. I'll have some clothes waiting for you by the time you're out." Without waiting for her to reply he turned away from her and moved to the door.

As soon as he disappeared Kate shed the sheet and bolted for the bathroom. The steam from the water was spilling into the rest of the space, fogging the wide expanse of mirror over the dual washbasins. Slipping stealthily into the shower, she pulled the door closed. Then, she stepped hesitantly under the steady stream of water, wincing as the pulsating jets massaged her neck and shoulders. For the first time she realized just how tense and sore she was after her rooftop encounter with Cole Maddox.

Lathering a washcloth with the brand new bar of soap he conveniently had provided for her use, she gingerly washed herself. It took a while, but as she cleaned herself she was able to take a full inventory of all of her injuries. To her relief, they were minor. Nothing more than bruises or scrapes. Her muscles ached, especially in her arms, shoulders and neck. She suspected that came as a result of her tumble over the ledge of the building and the strain of hanging on until help came. Now I know how Jimmy Stewart felt in _Vertigo_, she mused to herself.

As the washcloth moved over the scar on her chest, she sighed audibly. The memory of Castle's hand, Castle's lips on it sent a resonating feeling of warmth throughout her body. Memory after memory of his touch cascaded on her senses. Never, never in her life had she ever felt so loved. It wasn't just the physical way he had made love to her that made her feel like that; it was the looks, the intimate murmurings, the wonder and the awe she saw in his eyes. With every kiss he had given her he had seemed to be making a promise. In the end, although she had been the one to lead him into the bedroom, it was she who had utterly surrendered to him.

Unable to stop herself, Kate let the cleansing tears come. Drawing a shaky breath, she admitted, "I had no idea he loved me that much." Oh, dear God, please, please help me to do the right thing, to say the right thing to him, she prayed silently, overwhelmed by her own emotions. I love him so much! For a moment she lost herself in the warm spray of water before she tacked on an additional petition. And please, help us make this last. For always.

Running her fingers through her hair, she mentally weighed the pros and cons of using Castle's shampoo. Then, deciding she might as well, she squeezed a palmful out of the tube and worked it through her hair. The scalp massage was relaxing. Closing her eyes as her fingers worked their magic she allowed her thoughts to float. Naturally, they drifted right back to _him_.

I haven't told him I love him. She bit her lower lip, mentally kicking herself for the oversight, unaware the admission had already slipped out. I should have said it before. I should have told him as soon as he opened the door! Brilliant, Kate, just brilliant! Hopefully he knows without my having to say anything. It's just—I don't _want_ to _not_ say anything. Castle has been nothing but wonderful and patient with me—Okay, patient isn't the right word, but still . . .

We're going to have to talk. There are things I want him to know. Things he _has_ to know. I need to let him know about Espo's suspension and my resignation. The full weight of her decision to leave the NYPD hit her; she put out a hand to support herself. It wasn't that she regretted her choice; rather, it was that she suddenly realized without the protection of her position on the force she wouldn't be able to protect Castle should Cole Maddox come after him. She no longer had her service weapon or shield.

I should have thought about that sooner. I don't want Castle hurt any more than he already is. Maddox doesn't play. Shifting slightly, she winced again as the unrelenting stream of warm water hit the bruises on the left side of her body. They always told us at the Academy the less civilians know about an imminent threat, the better. But that's not the case with Castle. I know he comes up with random, off-the-wall theories, but he is _smart_, and he will be able to protect himself and his family from harm if I warn him.

Turning to face the levers, she reached out and switched off the shower. The residual steam immediately engulfed her, enveloping her in a warm vapor robe. Gently opening the shower door, she tentatively reached for the towel Castle had laid out for her. It was soft and fluffy, just exactly as she knew it would be. She wrapped it around her figure and reached for a second towel for her hair.

Meanwhile, in another part of the loft, Castle hummed softly to himself as he doctored the freshly poured coffee. Despite the seriousness he knew was coming, he still felt lighthearted and optimistic. He couldn't help it. It was in his nature. There was a part of him, albeit a small part, that wanted to throw caution to the wind, to forget about shadowy conspiracies and lone assassins and just have a normal evening watching ultra-bloody, ultra-cheesy, ultra-awesome John Woo films with the woman of his dreams. Make sure she's safe first, he reminded himself. Then you can get to the fun stuff!

He carefully carried the mugs filled with whipped cream-topped perfectly-sweetened coffee over to the coffee table in front of his sofa and set them down on coasters. Then, still humming to himself, he walked to the doorway of his bedroom and risked a peek. She was out of the shower, and by the sound of the blow dryer, working on her appearance. His brilliant blue eyes smiled. Good. Better not get caught lurking. I don't want Kate to think I'm some sort of perverted voyeur!

He retreated to safety and, after a brief moment of indecision, decided he was hungry enough to forage for something to accompany the coffee. A brief survey of the contents of his pantry revealed two things: one, he had a cookie obsession which was spiraling desperately out of control and two, he wasn't going to be able to make his famous—infamous?—pancakes come morning. Although he disdained any form of prepackaged mix, he lamented not investing in a contingency plan just this once.

Shaking his head ruefully, he pulled out a package of Milano cookies and closed the pantry. It didn't take him any time at all to pull down a plate and stack the delectable goodies on it. Somehow going the extra mile to impress Kate came as second nature to him. True, most of his attempts to impress her on the job usually fell flat, but this was a fresh start.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he quipped to himself as he left the kitchen with the plate in tow.

When he reached the coffee table he set the cookies between the mugs. Tilting his head to the side, he made a window with his hands and judged the setup with an artistic eye. It felt wanting. Making a face, he tried to rearrange the items on the table to make his new, makeshift centerpiece look a little better.

Kate, standing silently in the doorway between his living room and office, watched in amused delight. Biting her lower lip to keep from saying something to spoil the moment, she softly laughed. He is so adorable! What is he doing? While she observed him, he straightened, apparently satisfied at last with his efforts. She was about to step forward, to announce her presence in the room, when he took her by surprise again.

Castle, unaware he was the object of clandestine scrutiny, began singing the opening verse of "All I Need is the Girl" softly in his best Sinatra-esque voice. Then, to give himself a touch of syncopation, he started snapping in time to his own mental rhythm. As the song built, so did his antics. Now he was adding dance moves as his voice picked up strength. "'Got my striped tie'—No, I guess not." He paused as he backtracked in his tune and adjusted the lyrics to fit the moment. "Got my striped _robe_, 'Got my hopes hi—' Oh! 'Tie' rhymes with 'high.' Gotta keep it in there. Otherwise I'll be going with 'Got my hopes low' which is at best an approximate rhyme, and besides, my hopes are definitely _not_ on the low side."

Kate's eyes sparkled as she took in the scene. Cute! Now he's debating with himself over truth versus art! A delighted smile crept across her face as she resolutely refused to move forward for fear of ruining the moment.

He was back on track with his lyrics. Sticking to the original, he picked back up with "hopes high." Pivoting on his right leg, he spun all the way around, missing the fact that his audience clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing outright. Then, as he headed into the chorus he added a shuffle step. Throwing in some deep shoulder action, he emphasized certain phrases, like "just appear," "town for a whirl," and "my darlin'."

Just when she was sure he was winding down, Castle paused dramatically before adlibbing, "I'll throw away my ug-ly tie and that damned tweed indeed! 'Cause all I, all I really _need_ is—!"

She couldn't hold it in any longer. Letting out the laugh she had been saving up, she quipped, "Tell me how you _really_ feel, Castle."

He wheeled around. Somehow managing to throw himself off balance, he all but fell onto the couch. "Beckett! How long have you—how much did you hear?"

She laughed again as she walked toward him. "Really? You're worried about what I _heard_? If I were you, I'd be a little more concerned about those dance moves! Oh, if only I had my phone! The boys would have loved to see that!"

"Funny." Attempting to regain his composure, he gestured to the coffee table with a flourish. "Coffee's ready and I found sustenance!"

Looking down at the plate of cookies and the two cups of coffee, she arched an eyebrow. "So I see. Tell me, Castle, is this why you always run around like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush? You view _cookies_ as sustenance?"

He pouted. "You don't?"

Picking up one of the Milano cookies from the plate, she deliberately took her time biting into it as she maintained eye contact with him. "Mmm. I never have before, but a girl could get used to this."

It took all the will power he possessed to look away from her mouth. Doesn't she know what she's doing to me? His deep blue eyes widened in sudden realization. Of course she does—the tease! Giving her a complete sweep, he noted she looked a lot better than she should in his mother's silk lounging pajamas and robe. Boy did I choose well! Mother never looked like this!

"Castle, you're staring," she reminded a note of barely suppressed laughter still in her voice.

"I wasn't staring," he refuted, "I was admiring. You look—" He searched for the word then supplied the only one he could think of, "amazing."

To his delight and wonder, she flushed with hot pink color. Running her hand through her hair, she shook her head. "I don't think so."

Standing to his feet, he walked over and drew her into his arms. She kept her eyes downcast as though she knew if she met his she'd blush again. Instead she placed both of her hands on his chest and sighed.

"Look at me, Kate," he commanded tenderly. When she didn't he repeated, "Look at me. I'm not going to bite you." There was a pause as she lifted her eyes to his face and he saw a brief flash of mischief run through her hazel eyes. A responding flare lit his eyes and put a devilish grin on his face. "Katherine Beckett! You get your mind out of the gutter! I'm trying to be sweet, and you jump to . . ."

"Sorry," she apologized, but they both knew she didn't mean it. "You _did _kinda set yourself up with that one."

He grinned ruefully. "I suppose I did. And now I've lost my train of thought." He met her eyes again and his grin widened. "That happens when I'm holding an angel in my arms."

To his consternation she extracted herself from him and slowly walked over to sit on the couch. As she reached for her coffee he felt his insides churn. The warm color which had stained her cheeks moments before receded. For a prolonged moment, silence stretched between them until she looked up at him from under a veil of dark lashes, said quietly, "I'm not an angel, Castle."

The sadness in her voice, the plea for understanding in her face was harrowing. Her eyes were troubled now. Direct and serious, they observed every movement, every expression on his face.

He shook his head as if in disagreement but he didn't argue. Instead he sat next to her and reached for his own coffee. Angling his body so they could be as face-to-face as possible, he smiled reassuringly before taking a long sip. Whipped cream inadvertently ended up on his nose, but he didn't notice.

She smiled in spite of herself. Reaching up with her left hand, she gently wiped it off with her thumb then put it in her mouth.

"You _have_ to stop doing that," he muttered, his breath hitching in his chest. "A man can only take so much, Kate."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"That thing you do with your mouth! First you bite your lower lip when you're trying not to laugh, or when you're trying to keep from saying something, or when . . . Then, just a minute ago, you were trying to tempt me to kiss you with the way you nibbled at that damned cookie! And now it's the whipped cream!" His voice went up an octave and he actually managed to squeak.

"I'm so sorry," she said lightly, her eyes sparkling. "I'll do better, I promise."

"You'd better," he returned, but his eyes were smiling in response. Then as he sobered, he asked a serious question. "Why don't you want me to call you an angel?"

"You have to ask?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. Looking away again, she suddenly developed an unnatural interest in his living room décor. Should I press her or wait, he wondered silently, a line cutting across his brows. Just when I think I'm on firm footing with her, something else crops up! Will I ever get to the point where I can read her?

"Kate?"

At his gentle reminder she smiled wanly but it never reached her eyes. "Castle, there are so many things I have to tell you."

"About yesterday?"

She nodded miserably. "About yesterday. About me. About a lot of things."

"I'm here," he reassured, unsure what else to say.

"Can you do something for me?" she asked, turning to look at him directly for the first time in several minutes.

"_Anything_," he said fervently.

"It's just that—" She broke off, tried again, "This isn't easy, and I—"

"Just spit it out," he teased gently, setting down his coffee and taking her free hand in his. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"Please don't be sweet."

If he had been expecting anything, it hadn't been that. "What?"

"You're being sweet," she explained, setting her own mug on the coaster. "And right now, I can't handle it."

He sat back, totally stumped and bemused. "I don't think I've ever been ordered to stop being sweet."

"Damn it!" she swore suddenly, irritated with herself. "That's not how I should have said it." She dropped her head in her hands, her long auburn hair falling over her shoulders. "Castle, I'm such a convoluted mess! You were so right and I was so stubborn! Stubborn and prideful! I actually thought—I actually _believed_—I was fine, that I was able to handle everything alone. But I can't. I just—can't."

"And you don't have to." His eyes were shadowed but his chin was firm, his voice resolute. "You have me."

"I'm so sorry," she told him earnestly.

He shook his head. "You told me that earlier this evening. It's forgiven. All of it."

Her beautifully expressive hazel eyes filled with unshed tears. "But you haven't heard all of it."

"Then tell me," he urged. "Let's get it all out in the open."

At first the words came haltingly, one stumbling over another. But as she described what had happened since the night he left her apartment, presumably for the last time, she found her footing. Castle, for his part, listened without interruption for which she was more than grateful. As she confessed the details of the ill-advised pursuit of her shooter without proper backup his eyes filled with anguish and regret.

"Why did you do it?" he finally broke in.

Although her voice was steady, Beckett took time to phrase her answer. "I've thought about the answer to that over and over, Castle. It all comes down to what I told you before. I was so sure, so confident this was it, that this was my chance to capture him. I was such a damned fool!"

Standing to her feet, she moved around the coffee table and started pacing. Castle watched her quietly, his eyes as shadowed and troubled as her own.

Picking up again, she admitted, "Gates was right: I am a disgrace to the uniform!"

That alarmed him. Jumping to his feet, he quickly came to her. "Kate, you and I both know that's not true. I have _never_ seen anyone more committed to doing this job than you. You have compassion and sympathy for the families of the victims. And you have a thirst and drive for justice which is unmatched in the NYPD. I've said it before and I'll say it again now: you are _extraordinary_!"

"The only thing I thirsted after in this case was revenge," she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible. Lifting her eyes to his face she read the unconditional, forgiving love in his eyes. "You were right about me. I-I wasn't in control. I-I lost who I was, Castle." Her heart ached intolerably at the memory of her choices and motivations. "I swerved from the path of justice and honor, and I hate myself for it."

Castle didn't move. Standing near enough to gather her into his arms if she needed him to he just lent her physical support without touching her. Never taking his eyes from her face he felt his heart clench. More than anything he wanted to take away her pain and despair, but he knew instinctively that would be impossible. Somehow, sometime between what had happened earlier in the afternoon and the time she had knocked on his door, Beckett had held a mirror up to her soul and found her reflection unbearable.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled before saying, "Okay. Here's the thing, Beckett. We none of us are perfect. And yes, sometimes we do the things we do for the wrong reasons. But I'm not going to stand here and judge you for your choices. I told you all of that is water under the bridge. You made a decision. End of story."

She smiled unexpectedly. "Not exactly the _end_ of the story, Writer Boy."

His mouth quirked up at the corners and he wiggled his eyebrows. "_Touché_. My point is, no matter what happened this afternoon, you're here now. You're alive; Esposito is alive. That's all that matters."

She shook her head and turned her back on him, retreating to the couch once more. "That's just it, Castle. My stupid stunt got Esposito suspended."

"He's a grown man, Kate. He made his own choice."

"No," she refuted, her voice strong and confident, "He wouldn't have been in that situation if I hadn't put him in the position to do that. He wanted to protect me because he knew I was going to pursue Maddox." She waited until Castle took his place beside her and gathered her hands in his before continuing, "Ryan did the same thing only he did it the right way. The way I should have from the start. He went to Gates. I still don't know how much he told her—although I'm sure he didn't betray Montgomery—but regardless, it was enough for her to say what she said."

"About you disgracing the uniform?" he clarified, his eyes blazing in sudden anger at the woman.

She nodded. "She was within her rights, Castle. Don't be upset with her. Had I been in her place, I would have handled it the same way."

"I don't know about that," he huffed, his residual dislike of Captain Victoria Gates still coloring his point of view.

"Yes you do. But when I was in there getting dressed down I made an important decision." She had his full attention again. Then, without preamble, she stated bluntly, "I resigned, Rick."

Beckett knew by his sharp intake of breath she had stunned him. Castle sat back, releasing her hands.

"You—you resigned?" His mouth fell open before he closed it again. "But why?"

"For the last fourteen years the Job has defined my life. I gave my _all_ for it, Castle," she explained earnestly. "But everything I fought for, everything I _thought_ I wanted seems so unimportant now."

He studied her seriously. "I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say."

She sighed, then, instead of telling him what she meant she returned to the topic of her rooftop fight. As she described what happened, how she had fruitlessly attempted to bring Maddox down, how she had lunged at him only to be deflected, his expression grew more intense as a scowl cut between his brows.

"You should have seen it," she said with a hint of humor in her voice, "I was so pathetic! I mean, he just swatted me away like I was nothing more than a bug to be squished."

"I don't believe it," he breathed, and it was unclear if he meant what she was saying, or that she was actually laughing about it.

"But it's true," Beckett insisted, nodding her head to emphasize her point. "I employed every move I've ever learned in combat training, and I just bounced off of him like he was made of Teflon." The amusement in her voice faded completely. "I ended up rolling unceremoniously off the edge of the building. I'm only here because I managed to cling to the ledge until Ryan came."

All of the color drained from his face. "Oh, my God! Ryan's call!" Closing his eyes tightly, Castle forced himself to imagine how it must have been for her suspended ump-teen stories in the air, waiting and praying for someone to save her. It doesn't matter that she chose to go after Maddox even after you gave her the ultimatum, he told himself fiercely, That someone should have been you. Suddenly feeling sick, he leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Kate," he managed after a moment, his voice filled with incredible anguish.

Looking at him quickly, she saw the torment in his eyes, heard the agony in his voice and instinctively wrapped her arms around him, laying her head against his shoulder.

"Please don't," she begged him. "I couldn't stand it if you blamed yourself for any of this."

He raised his head and lifted his arm to draw her in closer. "Ryan called me before we left for Alexis' graduation," he confessed. "I suspect he was calling to let me know about your going after Maddox without backup. He thought I—" He broke off. When he spoke again, it was with even deeper anguish, "Kate, I should have been there! I'm your partner!"

"Castle, don't."

He shook his head. "No, listen to me, Beckett. I've been acting like a world-class jackass for the last month, punishing you because I thought—that doesn't matter anymore. But you? You had my back. Even when I put you down, even when I rode shotgun with Slaughter, you were still my partner. I hurt you intentionally, tried to freeze you out, and you _still _stuck with me. And why? Because we're _partners_ and that's what _partners_ do." He paused for a quick-drawn breath then added, "I should have been on the rooftop with you, Kate."

"Shush," she shushed him. "Don't play a game of 'what ifs,' Castle. If you had been there, I wouldn't be _here_."

His startled blue eyes widened. "What?"

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she met his eyes and smiled tremulously. "It's true. Everything I said when you let me in is true. Maddox left me there to die, but I wasn't thinking about him. I was hanging on by my fingertips, but I wasn't thinking about my mother. I was thinking about _you_."

Taking her face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. She responded instantly, drawing him closer as she deepened the kiss. Then she abruptly sat back, leaving the circle of his arms.

He let her go.

Methodically as though she were briefing him on any other case she told him the rest in detail. Although he was listening intently, she could tell he was still upset with himself, still blaming himself. Sighing softly, she lifted her chin as her mouth tightened into a straight line.

Finding it hard to meet her eyes, Castle reached for his mug and focused his gaze on its contents. "When you said Maddox took a photograph out of Montgomery's wedding album, did you mean it was one with a potential victim on it?"

Her brows furrowed. "That's what we believed, yes. But Castle, that's all up to Gates now. I'm sure Ryan turned the files over to her, and you can bet she didn't waste any time assigning the case to someone else."

"Are you okay with that?"

A slow smile started in her eyes and descended on her face. It had the effect of sunrays breaking through storm clouds. Castle drew in his breath. If I live to be five hundred, he told himself in awe, I will never get used to seeing that smile. She's so beautiful!

Unaware of her smile's effect on him she answered, "It's fine with me. In fact, I think I prefer it. After meeting Maddox face-to-face and barely surviving to tell the tale I wouldn't want Ryan or Esposito anywhere near this case."

Castle released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Do you mean that?"

"I'm done with it, Castle. Even if I somehow had managed to apprehend him, do you think I'd rather be at the station, in the box with him than here with you? I made my choice, and I don't regret it. Arresting Maddox won't bring my mother back. He would never give up his employer so the justice I was seeking for her death would still be out there, eluding me."

He studied her face with an alarming intensity, ferreting out some runaway expression which might betray other emotions she might be hiding from him. Satisfied at last she meant what she had said, he finally smiled in response.

"You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that," he told her earnestly. "Yesterday I didn't have a chance to go into detail about the deal Montgomery worked out for your protection."

"You said they wouldn't come after me if I dropped my mother's case," she said, her hazel eyes searching his blue ones. "I've dropped it. Case closed."

A sudden frown marred his handsome features. "I don't know, Kate. I mean, I thought that was it, but. . ."

"Listen to me, Castle," she insisted, "This Mr. Smith person—do you trust him?"

He set his coffee back on the coaster and shot his hands through his hair. "Yes. No. No, I mean yes. Uh, I think I do." He looked up at her sheepishly. "I do. I trust him."

"And Montgomery sent him the files, yeah?"

He nodded. "That's what he said. I can only assume that's the case. How else would he know to call me?"

"And these files of Montgomery's—whatever's in them has the power to bring down the man responsible for my mother's murder."

"That's what we were led to believe," he agreed.

A fleeting thought flashed through his mind but before he could grasp it and haul it to the forefront it vanished. There was something about the picture Maddox had taken that stuck out to him, something about Mr. Smith. Yet, as he pursued the line of thought, all he could scrape together were the fragments of a theory he didn't wish to believe.

"Then I have to take it on faith that I'll no longer be on their radar." She gently raised her left hand to his cheek then dropped it to her lap. "I refuse to live in the shadows of fear and regret any longer. I can't spend my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if I'm going to be killed because I know too much."

"Mr. Smith knows too much," Castle said solemnly. "If I were writing this, the man who murdered your mother wouldn't beat around the bush. Kate, we're talking about a very powerful person here! A man who hired a trained sniper to assassinate you wouldn't hesitate in taking out the person who holds all the blackmail on him."

"Like he sent Lockwood after Montgomery," she picked up, her eyes flaring with quick intelligence.

He nodded. "Right. He sent Lockwood after Montgomery thinking he would kill him then get to you. But it didn't turn out that way. So enter Maddox at the funeral. Were it not for the power of prayer and expert medical attention, his attempt would have been successful."

"And the attempt was made in the first place because the files hadn't reached Mr. Smith yet," she cut in.

His eyes brightened as he sat forward. "Right again. As soon as he had the information, he must have filtered through it, Kate. He not only possesses the files, he _knows_ what's in them. And if he struck a deal using that information, then this man, whoever the hell he is, knows that he knows."

A small seed of apprehension took root in the base of Beckett's stomach. She could see where he was headed with this, and the thought that yet another person could fall victim to this one man's treachery sickened her. Every fact Castle presented rained down on her, watering the idea until it blossomed into conviction.

"My point is," he continued, unaware of her private turmoil, "if I were this guy I'd just hunt down Smith. Eliminate him, and you eliminate the chance of exposure." He didn't add that Mr. Smith's death would also terminate any and all deals laid on the bargaining table, namely Beckett's life.

Reaching for her coffee, she brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. The whipped cream topping had long since dissipated into the liquid, making the drink that much creamier. Emptying the mug, she returned it to the table and reached for another cookie.

He stared at her in open-mouthed surprise. "How can you eat at a time like this!"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Flicking her eyes to her wrist, she was fleetingly aggravated with herself for forgetting to put her father's watch back on after the shower but rebounded with a soft, musical laugh.

"It must be close to ten-thirty, Castle," she retorted as she bit into the cookie. This time she was careful not to make it as flirtatious as before. "I don't know about you, but I didn't get dinner, and I'm famished. If I'm going to sit around building theory with you, I'm going to have to eat."

A bemused expression settled on his face. "I didn't give dinner a thought, either," he confessed ruefully. "Mother and I discussed taking Alexis out for a celebration meal, but she opted to go to the party instead."

To his surprise her face flamed red with embarrassment. "Oh, dear God! Castle, I didn't make it to her graduation!" She was horrified; her face fell and she slumped beside him. "I'm so, so sorry!"

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he shook her gently. "Alexis knows what you do for a living, Kate." Catching himself, he amended, "What you _did_ for a living. She isn't going to hold it against you."

She wasn't as convinced as he was. For the better part of a year Kate had been aware of the undercurrent of barely concealed hostility coming from his daughter. She hadn't forgotten the look of pure animosity Alexis had given her behind the barricade at the bank, nor the only slightly less frosty attitude she had exhibited in the morgue while Lanie had briefed her on the postmortems during her internship.

There's no doubt she still blames me for putting her father in the line of that sniper, she told herself as her eyes became shadowed again. But I think it runs deeper than that. If I were in her place I would resent the way I've treated Castle; I've left him dangling for far too long. After all, he's been the center of her world her entire life, and she loves him. Having seen how much I've hurt him it's no wonder she dislikes me.

Sitting back, he watched the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling in her eyes. "Really, Kate, you should believe me. But if you're that upset about it, just make your apologies tomorrow. I'm telling you, Alexis is the most forgiving person I've ever met."

"She gets that from you."

He shook his head. "Perhaps, but it's more likely she learned how to be forgiving because of all the practice I've put her through." He laughed self-consciously. "God knows how many times I've embarrassed her, how many times I've given her grief. And yet, no matter what kind of fool I've made of myself she's always there at the end of the day to wrap her arms around me and give me comfort."

"I don't tell you this often enough, but I love what a wonderful father you are," Kate admitted, her voice soft and sweet. "When we first started working together, I was convinced you were one of those self-indulgent, arrogant celebrities who was so caught up with his bad-boy image that he had no time for his own family or anyone else."

He drew in his breath. "I can see how you could have gotten that impression."

"But I don't think that now," she hurried on desperate to make sure he knew she didn't believe those things about him anymore. "You're compassionate, warm-hearted, and generous." Her face stained with a fresh wave of color. "You're—sweet."

"And here I am, trying everything in my power not to be," he protested playfully, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She laughed then rose to her feet. Scooping up both coffee cups, she entered the kitchen and set them on the counter. When she turned around, he was beside her, cookie plate in hand. Reaching out, she took it from him and placed it next to the mugs.

"Kate," he began then fell quiet.

She smiled in response. "What?"

A wave of desire washed through him as he stared down into her mesmerizing eyes. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his robe in an effort to keep from pulling her into his arms and crushing her mouth with his, he reminded himself to stay in control.

Careful, he warned himself silently. Remember, she's sore and banged up. And hungry. You can do this! You can take care of her.

"Castle?"

"Huh?" He was still absorbed in her eyes.

"You're doing it again."

He blinked. "Doing what?"

"Staring."

"Can't help it," he told her seriously. "I'm in love with you. Staring happens."

Unable to think of a single thing to say in response, she flushed again. I _really_ have to stop blushing! This is getting ridiculous! Just because Castle tosses me a compliment doesn't mean I have to turn crimson. This isn't Valentine's Day in tenth grade! Concentrate, Beckett! Say something casual.

"I have an idea," she ventured, "Since I'm starving and you've admitted you haven't had dinner either, why don't we order takeout? There must be some place close by still open."

"Then you aren't planning to leave?" he asked, his blue eyes wide as though the possibility was too much to hope for.

She smiled and patted his cheek affectionately. "We-ell," she drew out the word, "I _was_ promised a John Woo marathon. And seeing as the only clothes I brought with me are in a soggy heap in your bedroom . . . You can hardly expect me to parade myself from here to SoHo wearing nothing but your mother's pajamas, now can you?"

"Uh—no."

Her smile widened and her eyes lightened. "You wouldn't want it to get around that you invited me on a date tonight and didn't even have the decency to spring for food, would you?"

"You _wouldn't_," he said, not at all certain that she wouldn't, after all. If Ryan or Esposito were to find out there would be no living with them . . . .

"All things considered, I'd better stay, at least for a little while longer." Standing on her tiptoes, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Then, with her eyes still sparkling, she concluded, "At least until my clothes are dry."

"That could take all night," he suggested suggestively as a new flame ignited in the recesses of his eyes.

Kate didn't miss a beat. "My, but you _do_ have high hopes, don't you, Castle?"


End file.
